capacious for him to fill, so he killed the bird in order to have it stuffed.

The winter of 1877 brought to the coast of New Jersey an unusual number of the Arctic dovekies, Mergulus alle. I was much interested with these queer but amiable little fellows. I held the idea that in their high northern range, they even visit the Pole, thus putting to blush our efforts in that direction. A boy on his way to school saw a bird acting very strangely by the side of a small stream. It was six miles from the sea, and entirely beyond tidal reach. The boy captured it, a simple matter, as he had only to go and pick it up. He took it to school, where the heat and dryness occasioned it much suffering, while its odd appearance and singular action caused much amusement. It stood so bolt upright that the scholars said the bird stood on its tail. When the lad got home a tub of water was procured, and then came the fun. The bird seemed crazed with delight. It ducked and dove and splashed. Then it would make a dash, fetching up against the side of the tub in a manner not altogether "healthy;" but then Mergulus is not the only biped that takes a winter tub in an injudicious way. I had furnished the local editor a paragraph in which was given the systematic name of the bird. Another specimen was found in a neighboring village, standing on the wood-pile in the back yard of a house, also some distance from salt water. It was mounted by the local taxidermist, who ambitiously named it from the newspaper paragraph. It found its way to the bar-room of the tavern, where I saw it, and was told its name by the obliging landlord, who said that he got it from the bird-stuffer, who told him that it was scientific. "Ah, indeed! Could you tell me what it means ?” “Oh, yes! Cur doctor says Mergulus alle means all-sea-gull." It would have been neither courtesy nor policy for me to say that mine host and the doctor were gulls all over.

I am at a loss to conceive why these birds, so thoroughly marine in their nature, come so far inland. Flight must be very laborious to them, and every motion on the land is awkward to a degree. But in the water, all is truly wonderful-there the bird displays grace, speed and a certain refinement of motion. There is much to wonder at and to admire in the sea dove's ways when in her own element. Just stand with us on the bluff at Long Branch. There is a high swell, for the wind is pretty stiff and

directly from the sea. We shiver in this wintry gale. How crushingly the surf comes rolling up the strand. What grand high waves they are-and to what a solemn cadence is the whole movement made. There are several sea doves, to whom all this is blissful and delicious. When it suits they can ride the crest like the stormy petrel. But see that gorgeous wave approaching, and that sea dove goes right through it, as an arrow shot through a cloud of smoke; and the bird comes out into the deep trough beyond, and with every feather dry. And now it scoons along the green glassy bed of that aqueous valley, then up the round side of that great water mountain which it has just pierced, then it sits like a little puff on the advancing crest. These are the nice points in the high art of natatory locomotion. It can float like a bubble and progress like a shot, while its rapid sub-aqueous movement, as against the momentum of the incoming wave, calls out one's admiration. And what about the molecular thrill of . that tiny avian brain? You may depend there is high glee there. Forward it comes, borne on that great surf-wave, which now strikes the shingly beach and breaks up into wild seething froth. The little bird, like a dark spot, ascends the sloping shore so quietly riding on the mad, white foam. Its grand role, however, is over. It suffers itself to be left high up on the beach by the scattered, receding surf. The shore seems alive with sand fleas, and Orchestia agilis is a dainty shrimp-like bait for our sea dove. The bird appreciates the opportunity, and sets itself to make the most of it. But oh, how awkward! But then, how is a body to put one's best foot forward when both pes are set so extremely far backward? So its every effort to capture Orchestia on dry land is decidedly inartistic. As if to save it from damaging so fine a record, my pupil's shaggy white retriever walks quietly up to the bird, takes it in his mouth, and carries it to his master. “Ah, Whitie! you have nipped birdie a little too hard, and Dovekie has come to grief."

In November, 1878, my friend the railroad conductor called on me. He had with him a box obtained at the grocery, which, with laths nailed on one side, he had improvised into a bird cage, The cage was carried by a boy whom he ordered to set it on my study floor, which done he thus made known his errand:

"Professor, here's a queer bird which we caught on the beach at Manasquan. I went up to it, and was surprised that it did not

fly away. Nobody knows what it is, neither the fishermen nor the old gunners along the coast. They all say that it is a tropical bird, and the most of us think it has been a pet on some vessel inward bound, and that it somehow got overboard and had to work its way to land. So I have come to see if you can tell us what it is. Now then, Pet, come out and show yourself to the gentleman." Having thus delivered himself with the same preciseness as when calling out the stations for his passengers, the conductor pulled up a few of the slats, and sure enough, the pet did come out and show himself. He had a body about as big as a pigeon's, with long legs and long toes. I had never seen his like. But there were certain features so noticeable, that with "Coues' Key to North American Birds," the merest tyro could soon determine the genealogy of the stranger. The bill was pinkishred, and as Patrick might have remarked—“ The cratur carried a breast-plate on the front of his head; and though with never a stocking to its name, it wore red garters on its legs." The bird had on its forehead a flat smooth plate like red coral, or sealingwax, giving it a somewhat cooty aspect; and around each tibia. was a red band, as if a fillet of the outer skin had been removed. It was the Florida Gallinule, Gallinula galeata. There was no strut in its walk. But for the occasional slipping of those great splay feet on the smooth oil cloth, the bird sustained a self-possession, with a dignity of carriage which was charming to witness. I called in my family to see the interesting stranger. Their entrance in no wise disconcerted Gallinule, although Madam stroked him on the back and patted him on his head, and even felt of his helmet plate. He was evidently a person not to be injured by flattery. Although undesigned, there seemed to me genuine humor in the contrast of the running down of an insect on the lily pads of a Florida pond and that stately megalopodian tread on my study floor. But for our confiding nature we should have suspected the stranger of putting on uprightness, an instance of mimicry of that good old knight, Sir John Auricular, who in all God's ways walked perpendicular. I came near asking, "Where did the bird get so much good breeding ?" but was interrupted by the conductor, who reiterated his theory as sufficient for the facts: "You see, Professor, how tame he is, and gentle. He doesn't mind anybody. It's that which makes us believe he is a pet off some ship." "I don't think so; though for all that

it is barely possible that he may have been on a ship; for he has a gay cousin down south, the purple Gallinule (Porphyrio martinica), who has been known to board a vessel two or three hundred miles out at sea." We set to work to search the house for flies, the whole family going at it with zest. Here again the bird awoke our interest. With no flurry, but in a quiet and most sensible manner, he would approach the person bringing a fly, and take it gently, in such a knowing way, from between the thumb and finger. I was much impressed with the belief that scent had much to do with the matter, as the insect was so held that it could not be seen.

Again the conductor suggested his theory to explain the fact: "You may depend, Professor, he's a tame bird, and is used to being fed from the hand." We had a theory, too, but which we did not broach, to wit: that it was a specimen of extra good bird sense, actuated by the keen demands of appetite. But it was so late in the fall that the flies were quite scarce, and we could not find one more. We then tendered him cake and bread crumbs, to which he took very gingerly, evidently not hankering after such rations. Some fresh water was set before him, of which he took a pretty good drink; after this, entirely of his own option. and in a very quiet way, he went to his cage, entered, and squatted on its floor, and in its own dumb way seemed to say to its owner, "Please, sir, now shut the door." Bidding the boy who was with him to carry the box, the conductor and his singular pet left. Thus cooped up, with not a vestige of its natural environment, either as to food or water, in two days the poor bird died. I saw it not long after, a mounted specimen in the bird-stuffer's shop. But now the red garters had faded into a foxy hue. So too had the rosy bill. As for that quaint frontlet of polished red coral, it had lost both color and form, for it had shriveled up into an unsightly rosiny scar.

Such are a few memory notes of life features on the human side, of some of our rare New Jersey birds.

ON THE MICROSCOPIC CRYSTALS CONTAINED IN

IT

PLANTS.

BY W. K. HIGLEY.

T has been the custom to call all crystals that occur in plants, whether in the cell contents, the cell-wall or even the nonmicroscopic crystals that are found in the outer portions of plants, by the common name raphides," no matter what the form may be. And while giving this general name to their form, a much more general chemical composition was given, viz: oxalate of lime; and for a long time they were all supposed to have had this composition, and even up to the present day many writers have considered them thus. The decision of some seems to have been based on the analysis of the inorganic matter of one crystalbearing plant, which proved to have the above composition, and in drawing their conclusions they considered that all crystals of apparently the same crystalline form, were of the same composition. But it is difficult to tell, at all times, the exact crystalline form, as different forms sometimes resemble each other very much. And as the form may vary, so may the chemical composition. Crystals of some form seem to be nearly or quite universal; on close examination they may be found in some part or parts of the majority of plants. In some plants they are only found in a certain position and of one form, while in others they may occupy several localities of the plant, and have as many forms. But the position and form often vary so much that it has been recommended by some authorities that they be made a family, and in some cases a generic distinction in the study of systematic botany.

Prof. Geo. Gulliver, while making dissections under the microscope for the purpose of comparing the relations between the structure of plants and animals, made note of every case, in the examination of plants where raphides or other crystals occurred, and he says: "It was not before a large accumulation of my notes had been examined that crystals were thought of in this point of view; for they had not even been particularly looked after, and were merely noted whenever seen, long before their significance as characters were suspected. But when every one of these notes on raphides had been picked out, it was very unexpectedly discovered that the plants in which they occurred would sometimes come under certain orderly arrangements.